Chasing Demons (Book 2) Rated R

Chapter 13

Once again, I'd taken a trip halfway around the world and it wasn't even to Paris.

And yeah, I was salty about it.

But between the episodes of blinding pain, I was able to admire the beauty of Bucharest. It was a city full of history, from its traditional Romanian architecture, to its cathedral-style buildings and its cobble-stoned paths.

Julian and I stood on the sidewalk now overlooking a roundabout. Cars whizzed around it. It was supposed to be a means to direct traffic but it looked out of place, a random patch of green grass and shrubbery among all that brick and mortar.

Romanians went about their day under a late-afternoon sun.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the oversized windows of a bus as it passed by.

I looked like shit.

Even at a glimpse, I could tell I was pale and looked perpetually nauseous.

It was hard not to.

For the past twenty-four hours, through a plane ride, a car ride, and a subway train, the torture had gone on and off, roughly once every hour, peaking at its worst about three hours ago.

It'd been fun, explaining that to the other metro-goers.

"She's unwell," Julian would say in Romanian. "In the head." He'd point at his temple, miming a circular motion--the universal sign for looney.

The Romanians had accepted this explanation without too much fuss.

Only one old lady had stopped to ask, in her beautiful, curt language, if Julian was holding me hostage.

I'd shaken my head no and Granny had gone on her way with a scowl.

Now we stood near a bustle of traffic, with the cellphone tower that had pinged Christian's last known location directly across from us, nestled between two buildings.

One was a catholic church, its cement steps leading up to a fortress of a building, its stained glass with its figurines of random saints reflecting the tempered winter sun.

Bucharest was cold, but not nearly as frigid as the Carpathian Mountains. In that faraway place, where reader nation sat nestled and disguised by magic from careful human eyes, the cold was brutal.

"This is useless," I grumbled. "It's like looking for a needle in a haystack."

We'd already combed the hotel he'd been registered at plus a strip of shops, flashing a picture of him at impatient employees who'd shaken their heads when asked if they'd seen him.

There was no trace of him and the sun was starting to go down and with it any hope of finding Chris.

Anxiety gnawed at my insides. All had been quiet on the torture front for the last three hours and I worried that instead of a reprieve, this was just the calm before the storm.

I glanced at Julian who shaded his eyes against the sun while he scanned the dozens of buildings we hadn't yet searched.

If only he had x-ray vision.

"He could be anywhere."

It was our turn to cross onto the other side of the street, following a group of people that mainly dispersed up the steps of the cathedral. Street vendors littered the foot of the church, advertising their wares. Some began to pack their carts, preparing for the soon-to-come darkness of a winter evening.

The sun disappeared behind the cathedral, casting those nearest to it in shadow while the blue of the sky bled pink and orange.

I glanced up at a billboard, willing a magic arrow to appear, to point me in the direction I should go.